


Fall Closely

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Boys Kissing, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Slurs, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: Filled Tumblr Prompt: MacDennis + First time calming the other down during a panic attack.





	Fall Closely

_February 5, 1993_

"Hello?"

"Mac?"

"Ew. Dee, you bitch, why are you calling me? How did you get my number?"

"Shut up, dick. Look, Dennis isn't acting right, and he locked himself in his room."

Mac's heart leaps into his throat. No. Not this. Not again.

But Mac gets what she means. Today at school, Dennis didn't say a word to anyone, choosing to ignore the world and listen to his Walkman instead. He didn't even want Mac go come over after the final bell; he wanted to take a nap. Mac said okay, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'll actually sleep and feel a little better.

He should've went home with him.

"I'll be there in 20," he quickly tells Dee. He tugs on his shoes and grabs his bike before racing through subdivision streets. He hopes Dennis can hold on till he gets there. Last week, Mac found Dennis in his room, completely out of it and bleeding from a deep series of cuts on his left arm. Purple crescent shaped marks riddled his skin. There were lighter burns on his fingers. Dennis does horrible things to himself when he's like this. He doesn't exactly knows what 'this' is because it's different every time, but he does know it hurts him to see that Dennis is so self-destructive.

His legs shake as he drops his bike in the driveway and sprints up the stairs to Dennis' room. Dee is sitting at the door, whispering through the crack at the bottom.

"Okay, Dennis, Mac's here," Dee says, voice unnaturally soft and concerned. "Please let him in."

Mac raps his knuckles on the frame as quietly as he can. He knows how Dennis gets when he's like this. He doesn't like a lot of noise. "Hey, bud. It's me. Mac."

It takes a what seems like a lifetime before the door creaks open. Dee whispers, "good luck," before turning on her heels and going back to her room. Mac takes a deep breath, crosses himself, and prays he isn't walking into a self-made massacre.

But there's no blood. Not that Mac can see at least.

It's just Dennis sitting on the floor in front of his bed. His arms wrapped around his legs, his head rests on his knees as he rocks back and forth. His eyes are far away. He doesn't really look like he's here.

"Hey, Den," he whispers. "What's going on?"

Dennis looks absolutely wrecked. Tear stains on flushed cheeks. Chin quivering. Eyes bloodshot and glassy. He's wearing pajamas three sizes too big for him, and it's easy to notice he hasn't eaten in a few days. Mac tries hard to make Dennis eat, but there's only so much he can do before Dennis screams and shuts him out altogether.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

Dennis instantly rolls up his shirtsleeve. There are three angry, red lines on his left forearm. They're still bleeding.

Mac nods. "Okay. That's okay. I can help patch you up."

Dennis shakes his head. Tugs his shirt back over the wounds. Buries his face in his knees. He starts to hiccup and stops breathing and grasps at his hair like he's trying to pull all of it out. Dennis would be pissed if he was bald.

The second Mac reaches out, Dennis flinches hard.

"Den, you gotta breathe, bud," he tries.

But Dennis rocks himself into a stupor fueled with fear. He's shaking so bad. Without warning and on his own terms, Dennis crawls into Mac's lap and let's out a sob that is two steps away from a scream. He hits Mac's chest with a balled up fist a couple times before putting his hands back in his hair.

"Mac..." he lets out. "Mac..."

"Yeah, Den. It's me. I'm right here."

"Gonna die..."

Mac's eyebrows furrow. "No. No, Den. You're not gonna die."

"Chest," he whispers. "It hurts."

Mac pushes Dennis into a sitting position. He carefully takes Dennis' and places it over where his heart beats unsteadily in his chest cavity. He then puts his own hand on top of Dennis'.

"Feel this, Den? Can you feel your heartbeat?"

Dennis nods, tears streaming down his cheeks freely. He hiccups

"Good. That's good, bud. Alright, I'm gonna count the beats out loud now, okay? When I get to 25, you tell me if your chest still hurts."

Dennis nods. He grabs Mac's sleeve with his other hand.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5," he starts, voice slow and smooth and level. By the time he gets to 20, Dennis leans forward and presses his forehead against Mac's shoulder. "How's your chest?"

Dennis nods.

"Want me to keep going?"

Another tiny, trembling nod.

"26, 27, 28," he continues.

By the time he makes it to 100, Dennis' head is in his lap. Mac cards his fingers through his curls. He grabs the comforter from Dennis' bed and wraps him up in it as best as he can.

At seven the next morning, Mac wakes up to Dennis wiping drool of his chin and staring childishly at the patch on Mac's shirt. He apologizes for freaking out. Mac tells him not to be sorry. He puts antibiotic cream on Dennis' cuts and wraps his forearm in gauze.

He has the maid make them breakfast in bed. Banana and chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup. Dennis' favorite.

When Dennis gets chocolate on his lips, Mac leans over and kisses it off.

~

_April 30, 1993_

They're making out a little.

Whatever. It isn't anything to think too hard or too deep about. Mac's lips press against Dennis'. He's wearing cherry chapstick. It tastes sweet, like freshly pulled taffy on a summer afternoon. Dennis' hand rests on Mac's ass cheek, fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers.

Dennis has really soft lips. His breath is cinnamon fire when he breathes puffs of air into Mac's lungs, bringing him back to life. It's easy like this. Mac doesn't have to worry about Dad getting out of jail or Mom not coming home again tonight or being alone because he isn't alone. He has Dennis. Kissing Dennis is awesome too. Like really fucking awesome.

But it's also weird.

Mainly because he knows it's wrong. It's so wrong. He's a dude. Dudes shouldn't kiss other dudes. Any moron knows that. Mac's a big moron. He knows that. But he and Dennis were just watching a movie in his bed, and then this happens. Not that he's complaining. But it's a sin. And sins are bad.

Suddenly, the more he keeps thinking about it, the harder his heart pounds. It isn't because Dennis tongue is swirling in his mouth or because his own hand is buried in Dennis' damp from the shower curls. It's because he remembers his dad. Once, when he was 13 or or 14 or something like that, Dad caught him jacking off to one of Mom's porno mags. He got the beating of a lifetime. Bloody nose, black eyes, bruised knees, the whole works. Dad really went outta the way to make sure Mac knew that no son of his was gonna be a fag.

Shit. Fuck.

Mac pushes Dennis' shoulders, sitting up quickly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bad. This is bad. He's going to Hell. He's going to Hell. And God will know that he's been making out with his best friend and spending the nights in his bed and holding his hand when they sit across the table from each other at school.

Mac puts his head in his hands. Blinks tears away. This isn't right. He isn't supposed to be this way. It feels so so right when he's with Dennis, but everything just feels so fucking wrong when they do things like this.

They should stop. They should stop.

"Whoa, slow down, baby boy. Just breathe," he hears.

Dennis' voice is smooth like the butter they poured on their shared popcorn during their last movie night. It makes Mac sick to his stomach.

But then Dennis puts his hand on Mac's shoulder, and the touch is a voltage shock of raw electricity.

"Don't!" Mac shouts. "Please... Don't touch me."

"Mac, you gotta calm down, bud," Dennis says. His voice is so level. Why isn't he freaking out right now? He should be freaking out right now.

His chest hurts. He wants to breathe, but he can't. Nothing feels right. Everything seems too far or too much or too awful to handle. He feels like he's dying, all slow and painful and horrible.

"It's okay, Mac. It's okay," Dennis soothes.

Despite every fiber of his being telling him no, Mac crumbles against Dennis' chest, balling up Dennis' long sleeved shirt in his fists. He breathes. He cries. He tries to figure out why it all hurts so much. Dennis rubs his back, but it's good. It's okay. Because nothing else makes sense, but Dennis touching him does. He's so confused.

"Shh... Shh... You're gonna be alright," Dennis says. "It'll be over soon. I'm right here. I'm right here."

"Den..." Mac squeaks out. "W-We... You... I can't do t-this anymore."

But Dennis kisses the top of his head. Dennis swallows Mac's nerves and anxities and is a tower that refuses to fall despite everything telling him he should. Dennis is here, and it's somehow everything to Mac.

"Mac," he hears. "Breathe. Just breathe."

He does.

It hurts.

It feels so so right around Dennis, but so fucking wrong.

Dad would kill him if he found out.

Later on, when the snow starts to fall, Mac lays his head on Dennis' chest and listens to his breathing. Decides it's okay for just this once to indulge.

Tomorrow, he'll be a new man. Tomorrow, he'll make his dad proud. Tomorrow, he'll stop kissing Dennis and holding his breath when he's around him.

But, for tonight, he won't say a word when Dennis cards his fingers through his hair and songs him a Red Hot Chili Peppers song before he falls asleep.


End file.
